


Yes

by frecklesarechocolate



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Episode: s09e13 The Purge, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Post-Episode: s09e13 The Purge, Spoilers, This is not a Valentine's Day fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 09:22:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frecklesarechocolate/pseuds/frecklesarechocolate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This isn't a Valentine's Day fic. It's more like a Valentine's gift to you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yes

It's a Friday like any other. 

Well, that's not true. There's no hunt, Abaddon has been quiet, Crowley's in the wind, and Sam seems to be at least... tolerating Dean's presence, if not completely ready to talk.

Dean's counting that as a win.

Even more win - Cas is sticking around, at least for now. There's a small voice in Dean's head that pipes up and says the only reason Cas is staying is because he  _can't_  fly off. Dean tells that voice to shut the fuck up already.

So, normal Friday, in his home, his brother and his best friend by his side. This is good.

Sam grunts at Dean when Dean walks into the kitchen. 

"Morning," Dean says, and he doesn't even try to keep the happiness out of his voice.

"You're in a good mood," Sam notes.

Dean just shrugs. He pours himself some coffee and hovers in front of the fridge. "I think we've got the fixings for french toast. Want some?"

Annoyance and eagerness flitter across Sam's face in equal measure, but the desire for a homemade breakfast must win out, because Sam smiles hesitantly and says, "Sure, sounds good."

Dean hums to himself while he makes the french toast, slicing up the bread and dunking it liberally in the egg mixture. He throws in an additional dash of cinnamon, and soon the warm scents of breakfast fills the air. Cas comes into the kitchen not long after Dean sets down the first plate of toast in front of Sam, and Dean makes up a batch for the angel.

They eat quietly, the only sounds in the room their silverware clinking against their plates. Sam works his way steadily through the stack that Dean made for him, and when he looks longingly at the stove, Dean makes up another stack for him. Sam smiles his thanks, and the temperature between them thaws just a little bit more.

Dean sits next to Cas, not quite bumping shoulders with his friend, but close enough to feel the human warmth emanating from his body. Cas tosses a glance at Dean, but doesn't move away. He makes appreciative noises as he eats, and Dean soaks it up.

* * *

 

They gravitate toward the library after breakfast, making a sort of triangle at the table - Dean at one end and Sam and Cas across from each other a little ways down the table. Sam flips open his laptop, but doesn't seem to do much with it, instead staring at his phone. Cas pulls one of the large books toward him and begins to idly flip through it, stopping occasionally to read something before moving on.

Dean has a volume of Vonnegut in front of him, but he's not reading, instead just staring at the page. They're in a kind of limbo, but it's a  _comfortable_ one, where they don't have anything to do and they're not fighting with each other.

More win.

The buzz of Sam's phone is loud in the library, startling them all. Cas and Dean watch him, curious, as he answers.

"Winchester," Sam says, his voice clipped. "Yeah," he says again, and his voice has softened. He turns slightly away from Dean and Cas, hunching over the phone. "I think I could. Why?"

Dean leans forward, wanting to hear the other end of the conversation. Who is Sam talking to? Sam's voice is hesitant, but Dean knows his brother well enough to hear the eagerness that lies beneath. Whoever Sam's talking to, he wants to do what that person has asked. 

Dean flicks his gaze over to Cas, who is also watching Sam with interest. Cas feels Dean's gaze on him, and their eyes meet. Cas smiles, and the tiny gestures sends a swooping feeling through Dean. 

Sam gets off the phone, a shy grin on his face. "Uh. That was Jody. I'm gonna go..." Sam jerks his thumb over his shoulder. He unfolds himself from his chair and practically sprints out of the library.

Cas raises an eyebrow and asks, "What's that about?"

Dean snorts. "I think that Sam has a crush on the sheriff."

Cas tilts his head, thinking about that for a minute. Then he nods, like this isn’t somewhat exciting news and returns to his book. Dean does the same, but he's definitely not concentrating on it now. He grins to himself, glad that Sam's finding some semblance of normalcy in their lives. If he can take the time to establish a relationship with someone... well. Dean's happy for Sam. He's more than happy, he's thrilled.

Sam pokes his head back in the library before leaving. He's combed his hair and changed his shirt, but for once, Dean doesn't make a snarky remark. Really, he's a great brother. 

"I'll probably find a place to crash. Don't wait up." Sam raises his hand in a half wave, which Cas returns. Dean just nods at his brother, tilting his chin in Sam's direction. _Find a place to crash, his_ ** _ass_** , Dean thinks. Sam's gonna stay at Jody's, and that's just awesome.

It's just the two of them in the library now, Dean and Cas, and they're both staring at their books like their lives depend on it, not taking in any of the print on the pages in front of them. Dean's hyper aware of every move Cas makes. Cas shifts a bit in the chair, which creaks under him. Cas turns a page, and the whisper of the paper echoes in the library. Cas clears his throat, and it's a low rumble that settles in at the base of Dean's spine.

Dean lets his mind wander, thinking about how he's always been attracted to Cas, and how he's never let himself feel it, not really. How he's stuffed the feelings deep down so he doesn't have to acknowledge them. Every now and then, though, he pokes at the spot where he's hidden those feelings, tries to figure out if they're just lust, or if there's something _more_. Dean's not completely emotionally stunted, no matter what Sam might think. He's just learned that everyone's better off if Dean doesn't let his emotions get in the way.

Exhibits A through G: Sam Winchester. Dean knows he fucked up with the whole Gadreel thing. He knows it's going to take Sam a long time to come around and forgive him. He also knows that their relationship is probably never going to be the same. And all because Dean let his emotions make a decision.

Then there's exhibits H, I and J: Castiel. First and foremost, Cas is Dean's best friend, and Dean knows that  _he_ is happier when Cas is around, hands down, no contest. He has no idea if Cas thinks the same way, but he's got to have some kind of feelings about the Winchesters, if not Dean. He always comes back, somehow.

Dean sneaks a look at Cas over the top of his book. Cas’s head is bent over the book, his dark hair a mess, as usual. Dean’s palms itch - he wants to run his hands through Cas’s hair, see if it feels as soft as it looks. While not quite as scruffy as he was in Purgatory, he’s obviously left it a few days since his last shave, and Dean wonders what the scruff will feel like against his cheek if they were to kiss. Dean lets that thought run for a few minutes, thinking about the press of Cas’s lips beneath his own, how hot and wet Cas’s tongue would be when Cas finally opened up to him. Would Cas do that? Would Cas let Dean snake his arms around his waist and pull him close? Would Cas return Dean’s kiss, card his fingers through Dean’s hair?

“Dean.”

Dean’s startled from his fantasy. He blushes, glad that Cas can’t read his mind.  “Yeah Cas?”

Cas is looking at him intently, a puzzled look on his face. He squints his eyes for a moment, and then says, “Are you…” He stops.

“Am I what, Cas?” 

Cas inhales, steels himself by squaring his shoulders. “Are you okay?”

It’s not what Cas was originally going to ask, Dean thinks. But he shrugs and nods. “Yeah, Cas. ‘M good. I mean, it’s gonna take Sam awhile to.” Dean clears his throat. “To come around. But you know.”

Cas nods like he _does_ know, and Dean figures he does. Cas has been around the Winchesters enough, seen enough of them fighting with each other to know that it does work out. Eventually. Yeah, this one will take longer than usual, but they’ll get there.

“Are you sure?” Cas asks. He gets up, pushing the chair back from the table with a screech. He comes to stand in front of Dean’s chair, his fingers tapping a nervous tattoo on the tabletop. 

Dean has to tilt his head back to look up at his friend. Cas is asking something here, something other than what he’s voicing, but Dean can’t for the life of him figure out what that might be. “Uh. Yes?” Dean replies after a minute, when it becomes obvious that Cas is waiting for him to say something - anything.

Cas stares down at him, his expression inscrutable. Whatever it is that Cas is looking for, Dean’s pretty sure he’s not giving it to Cas right now. Dean resists the urge to push away from Cas, to break eye contact. 

Cas huffs. Irritation? Annoyance? Amusement? Dean can’t tell. It looks like Cas is trying to convince himself of something, trying to goad himself into doing something. It looks like the part of him that wants to do… _whatever_ … is losing. 

“Cas?” Dean asks, and that seems to be the final note that breaks the dam. Cas leans down and presses his mouth to Dean’s. Dean flails, his book dropping to the floor between them. The kiss is artless, really the mashing of their mouths together more than anything. Somehow, though, it’s no less a kiss because of it. Dean gets with the program pretty quickly, though, his hand finding its way to Cas’s fingers, which still rest on the tabletop. Dean shifts under Cas, and their mouths slot together perfectly. _There_. It’s a real kiss then, mouths moving softly against each other, Cas nibbling lightly on Dean’s lower lip. 

It’s not hugely comfortable, though, Dean reaching up and Cas leaning over, so they pull away from each other reluctantly. Their hands are still clasped together on the table, and Cas’s lips are red. His eyes flicker away from Dean’s, though. Dean pushes his chair back and cups the back of Cas’s neck pulling him close. Their foreheads press together, and Dean lets his eyes fall closed. He feels Cas’s warm breath on his cheek, hears the heavy thumping of his own heart, senses Cas’s rapid pulse beneath his thumb. They stand together like that for a long moment, neither one of them moving. Cas’s eyelashes brush against Dean’s cheek as Cas, too, closes his eyes.

“This.” Cas hesitates. “This is okay?” His lips move gently against the corner of Dean’s mouth as he speaks, not quite a kiss, but such an intimate gesture that Dean shudders. He swallows with a dry click and nods, unable to force words out of his throat. Cas inhales sharply and then kisses Dean again. 

Dean groans into the kiss, lets Cas take the lead. Cas’s free hand presses against the small of Dean’s back, bringing them flush together. The kiss is lips and teeth and tongue and just about everything that Dean thought it would be between the two of them, when he let himself. Cas’s breath comes in tiny hitches, each one sending blood from Dean’s brain southward. When they pull apart this time, they’re both panting, pupils blown wide. Dean raises his hand and runs his fingers lightly over Cas’s lips, which are spit slick. Dean marvels that _he_ did that, that he’s the reason Cas is breathing heavily, staring at him like he can’t get enough.

“Dean,” Cas says, his voice rough.

Dean rushes to cover whatever Cas was going to say. “Stay.”

“What?” Cas frowns, but doesn’t move back from Dean, doesn’t break the small intimate space they’ve created between them.

“I want you to stay. For.” Dean hesitates, but then plunges forward. It’s scary, the abyss he’s throwing himself into, but if Cas is truly there at the bottom… “For me?”

A stunned expression settles on Cas’s features, like he’d never considered that was a question Dean would ever ask him. But then he smiles, the bridge of his nose crinkling as the smile grows impossibly wide - a grin really. He’s never had that expression on his face, and Dean wants to see it as much as he can.

Cas takes a long time answering, though, and Dean fidgets, getting ready to pull away. Maybe the grin means something else. Maybe…

Dean’s train of thought is cut off by Cas kissing him again. Cas kisses his lips, his cheeks, his eyes, and then back to Dean’s mouth, where he settles in for a while. In between each kiss, Cas murmurs, “Yes, yes. Yes.” Over and over.


End file.
